


The Pink-Haired Man (And His Brother)

by annieapple24



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward meeting, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Punk!Stiles, awkward!derek, barista!allison, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieapple24/pseuds/annieapple24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek visits a coffee shop and sees a man with bright pink hair and can't seem to stop staring at him. When he returns the next day, however, he finds the man's brother. Is it wrong to have a crush on twins?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pink-Haired Man (And His Brother)

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to put my own spin on the always popular coffee shop trope. I just really loved the idea of punk!Stiles with pink hair.

Derek hesitantly wandered into the coffee shop. It was close enough to campus to reasonably be a daily stop for students, but far enough that most were too lazy to do so. He had never been before, but his sister was weirdly adamant about him trying it out. She claimed that a new space would help him focus on his work rather than the library where there was always someone around to bother him. To be fair, Derek was getting pretty annoyed with the numerous random freshmen asking him to help locate books for him. Laura said the broody look and reading glasses made him look like a librarian. 

The shop didn’t seem terrible. Even at such an odd hour there were quite a few people sitting, working on laptops or having quiet conversations across the mismatched tables. Derek ordered a mocha latte, trying to hide his embarrassment (his sisters always made fun of him for his order, so it was difficult not to be a little self-conscious about it,) and earned a smile from the pretty barista.

At the very least, the service was good. He gave the woman-Allison her name tag helpfully supplied-a smile in return and put all his change in the tip jar. He found a table in the back, with a surprisingly comfortable purple chair, that seemed far enough away from the quiet din to focus. 

His coffee was gone after the first twenty minutes, but it was another hour and a half before Derek started to debate getting another. He had actually managed to write half an essay and read most of his assigned text. Usually he had to barter his way into a private room in the library to accomplish that amount of work. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and decided another drink wouldn’t hurt. 

But just as he was about to stand, someone walked in and strutted up to the counter. Yes, strutted.

At first, Derek couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Maybe they were neither, Derek knew a student who asked classmates to use they, them, their pronouns for them. It was hard to tell these days and better not to assume. 

The person wore tight, ripped black skinny jeans and a leather jacket over a shirt for some band Derek thought played heavy metal music he would probably never listen to. Every bit of exposed skin was covered in intricate tattoos, some colored and some black and white. Both ears were heavily pierced along with his lips, nose, and eyebrows. 

The most distracting thing was the hair. It was bright pink and styled messily, like they had just rolled out of bed without bothering to brush it. 

Derek couldn’t stop staring.

He didn’t mean to stare, but every time Derek forced himself to look elsewhere, his eyes wandered back to them. It was rude, as much as he tried not to be. There was something about the person that was so… attractive. 

Just as he started to process this new and shocking revelation, the pink-haired person started walking towards him. Panic shot through him, wondering if he was about to get called for his staring. Derek averted his eyes, pretending to be engrossed in an article about behavioral analysis of canines, hands sweating like crazy.  
He watched stealthily out of the corner of his eye as the flock of pink hair swept past him and sat at a neighboring table.

Derek sighed in relief. It was a few minutes before he remembered how to move. He forced himself to stand and walk to the counter to order another drink. It couldn’t hurt to stay a little longer.

And if he happened to do more staring than actual work, no one was the wiser.

…

The next day, Derek decided to go back to the coffee shop. He told himself it was to get his work done and not to see Pink-Hair again. It wasn’t a particularly convincing argument, but he went nevertheless.

The same barista was working. Allison flashed him a smile when she recognized him, which he happily returned. 

“I want to try something new, what do you recommend?” he asked her conversationally.

She seemed a little surprised, probably because Derek didn’t exactly talk much the day before, but took it in stride. “I always get a white chocolate raspberry frap. It’s worth the calories.”

Derek chuckled. “Alright, let me try one.”

“Whipped cream?” she asked, writing on the cup.

“Of course.”

Again he put all his change in the tip jar after she cashed him out, waiting patiently as she mixed his drink. When she handed it to him, he smiled widely at the extra whipped cream, sprayed in a spiral forming a perfect point at the top. 

He sat down at the same table in the back. He laid out his laptop and books before sitting forward and starting his work. It wasn’t until after he took the first sip, moaning at the taste, that he noticed what Allison had written on his cup.

Scruffy McEyebrows. Derek guffawed embarrassingly. 

He did manage to write an entire paragraph, but it had taken the better part of an hour. Every time someone walked in the door, Derek looked up immediately searching for a shock of bright pink. Every time he looked away sadly and spent a few minutes silently berating himself. 

So when the door opened for probably the twentieth time since he arrived, Derek barely spared a glance towards the man and dismissed him when his hair was a normal brunet shade. But then he did looked again in shock.

It had to be the person from the day before. His face was the same, as well as his height and lanky frame. But there wasn’t a tattoo or piercing in sight. The man’s light brown pants paired with both a flannel shirt and a hoodie seemed the exact opposite of the punk look Derek had spent the previous day (and night) obsessing over.

This man, however, was much more talkative than Pink Hair. Derek idly wondered if he should be given coffee as he seemed hyper enough that it wouldn’t surprise Derek if he started bouncing off the walls. He chatted with Allison the entire time she made his drink, though Derek was too far away to hear what was said.

Derek was prepared to duck his head, this time, when the man walked towards him. However, this man sat a table closer to him. He couldn’t help but notice that they were close enough they could probably have a conversation without raising their voices. 

He tried to focus on his essay, but his senses were on high alert. Every time the man moved, even just readjusting in his seat (and honestly, does he have to spread his legs like that?) Derek’s eyes flitted over to him.

It took him ten minutes to give up. Frustrated, Derek gathered his books and stood to leave the shop. He purposely avoided looking at the man. Instead he smiled and softly thanked Allison who gave him a wink in return as he walked out the door.

…

It continued like that for a couple weeks. Derek wasn’t able to go to the shop every day, but when he did he always saw either Pink Hair or his equally attractive and distracting doppleganger. It only took a few days for Derek to realize that they must be twins. Two very different identical twins. 

It was the only way to explain how the two men (after a brief and probably not all that subtle conversation with Allison, Derek knew for sure that Pink-Hair was male) looked exactly alike. It also explained how they could behave so differently yet still have similar body language, probably having grown up together. They both smiled at Allison the same way, though Pink Hair tended to be less excited and more tired. Both fiddled with their pens as they wrote or drummed on the table with their fingers distractedly.

Maybe Derek did a little too much staring.

The weird part was that he never saw them together. It was like they were a divorced couple, scheduling days so that they never had to see each other. It would’ve been funny if Derek wasn’t so goddamn curious how they would look and act with the other present.

If he were more confident, Derek might ask Allison if she knew more about the twins. But he didn’t want to sound creepy, asking about the hot strangers he spent hours at a time either looking at or thinking about, wondering what they were studying or what they did in their spare time or if their pink lips were really as soft as they looked. 

No, better to look from afar. It was just a crush. Well, two crushes. But either way he would get over it in time. Right?

…

The last few weeks, Derek’s conversations with Allison got longer. Today she was telling him about forcing her boyfriend to watch The Notebook. It made Derek happy to know they were probably friends now. 

“So I finally talked Scott into watching it. Even our friend Jackson is man enough to let Lydia force him into watching it like, once a week. We didn’t even get to the break up scene and he left to go to the bathroom. I waited, but he never came back and I found him crying in the bathtub. It was adorable, but admittedly a little pathetic.”

Just as he was starting to tell her about when Cora forced him to watch Meet the Robinsons with her and he cried like a baby, someone walked up to the counter next to him. 

“Hey, Stiles,” Allison greeted the man.

Derek turned and saw it was Pink Hair’s brother, smiling widely at the girl.

“Hey, long time no see.” He turned to Derek. “Same to you, Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”

Allison giggled. Derek was sure they could both see the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Derek,” he told the man.

“I’m Stiles.” 

“Stiles. That’s,” he paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase it, “unique.”

Stiles laughed, moving to lean on the counter, taking up an absurdly large amount of space for someone so scrawny. “It’s a nickname. It’s short for my last name, Stilinski.”

Derek nodded in understanding.

There was an awkward pause. Allison had turned to restock the cups while they chatted, having already known both their names. Derek wracked his brain for something to talk about, not wanting the conversation to end so soon after weeks of wanting to talk to the man.

“So how’s your brother? I never see you guys together. Sorry in advance if it’s something you guys don’t like to talk about, I just see you both in here a lot and it’s hard not to be a little curious.” Derek stopped himself before the babbling got any worse.

The man looked at him in confusion, probably attempting to decode Derek’s poor attempt at human speech.

“Brother?”

“Yeah, brother. You know, tattoos, pink hair? Kind of hard to miss,” Derek explained, hoping nothing he said was somehow offensive.

Instead of yelling at him, Stiles burst into laughter, followed by Allison who had to clutch onto the counter to keep herself upright.

“What did I say?” Derek asked, a little hurt that they were both laughing at him.

After taking way too long to catch his breath, Stiles managed to pant out, “You… you thought I had a twin brother?”

“You don’t?”

Derek’s skin tingled when Stiles grabbed his arm.

“No, man. Oh, here, hold on.”

Stiles pulled his bag off his shoulder and pulled something out, handing it to Derek. It took a second before he realized it was a fake tattoo sleeve. He looked at the two, still trying to hold in their giggles.

“It’s me. I’m the guy with pink hair,” Stiles said slowly, letting it sink in.

Derek was an idiot.

“My friend Lydia convinced me to help her with a project she’s doing for art class. Or more like threatened to do very painful things to me if I didn’t help. It’s better not to question it, so I just let her dress me up in a bright pink wig.”

“It’s a wig? It looked so real.” Priorities, Derek. 

“It’s supposed to. She spent a crap load of money on it.” Stiles paused, thinking. “I guess I’m usually too tired to change before I come here after a session. I can’t live without caffeine and sugar,” Stiles admitted, not looking the least bit sorry about his addiction.

Derek couldn’t believe it. Both his crushes were the same guy. You don’t hear that every day.

“But you act so differently. Even the way you move. How is that possible?”

Stiles was confused again. “Really? That’s weird.”

Allison spoke up. “You’re usually exhausted after a day with Lydia. You can barely move, and you don’t talk nearly as much as usual. It’s actually kinda nice to get a break,” she teased with a smile.

“Hey, you love me and you know it. But yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“I feel like a total jerk now. I’m sorry,” Derek said sheepishly.

“Oh my God, don’t apologize. You’re freaking adorable. Here, let me buy you a drink, and we can talk some more,” the man smiled, making Derek’s heart skip a beat. “Good woman, give me a delicious glass of sweet ambrosia and a black or whatever bitter, flavorless drink for our grumpy-looking friend over here.”

Allison looked at Derek, hesitantly reaching for a regular cup knowing Derek never got straight black coffee. He nodded, unwilling to ruin anything before it started by rejecting it. Though he couldn’t hide a look of longing when she handed Stiles what appeared to be a frozen cavity in a cup, with extra whipped cream. There was no way someone could ingest that much chocolate without severe consequences.

They sat together at Derek’s usual table. Derek took a tiny sip at his coffee, wincing as the bitter taste hit his tongue. Luckily, Stiles was too busy talking to notice.

“Allison kept telling me I should ask to sit with you, but you’re always working and I don’t want to bother you, ya know?”

“Unfortunately, I’m usually too distracted to get much work done,” Derek admitted.

“Why do you keep coming here if it’s so distracting?” Stiles asked. 

Derek blushed and looked at his cup, unable to answer.

“Oh my god, really? Dude, that’s awesome. I’m distracting! And in a good way for once.”

Derek smiled brightly and unthinkingly took a gulp of his coffee. And definitely wasn’t able to hide his face at the god awful taste.

“Oh, is it not good? Did I get the wrong kind?” Stiles looked at him, concerned.

“No, no this is fine,” Derek tried to prove it by taking another drink and trying not to gag. “See?”

Stiles’s mouth hung open before he cracked a smile and pushed his drink towards Derek. “Try this.”

Derek shook his head. “No really-“

“Derek,” Stiles said seriously, “drink the damn coffee.”

Derek sighed deeply and pulled the drink close enough to hook the straw in his mouth. He took a long pull…

And moaned loudly. Inappropriately loudly. Loudly enough an older couple on the other side of the room glared over at him. 

Glaring back, Derek unashamedly took another drink.

“Dude, you are so adorable. I’m not even kidding.”

Was it a trick of the light, or was Stiles blushing?

“So I kind of have a thing for these yummy, barely-coffee drinks. But you have to swear not to tell anyone, especially not my sisters.”

Stiles grinned, pulling the drink to the middle of the table so they could share. “Sisters, huh?”

Derek launched into a story of Laura and Cora ganging up on him, completely ruining his school pictures in eighth grade. 

They ended up sitting together and talking for hours, not leaving until the light was fading from the sky. Allison had to kick them out so she could close the shop. They exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at the coffee shop the next day.

“And maybe dinner after?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

Derek couldn’t agree fast enough.


End file.
